


Hospital Curtain

by methylviolet10b



Series: Camera Obscura [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, Prompt Fic, canon-typical coincidences and physics, post-case wrap-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22045450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: After the case, Sally pays a visit to Lestrade in hospital. She's not the only one. Written for WAdvent prompt #5 over on Watson's Woes.
Series: Camera Obscura [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/51534
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Watson's Woes WAdvent 2019





	Hospital Curtain

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: I didn't think there was anything more to this story, but then this prompt came along and here it was. None of this will make sense if you haven't read the other stories in this series first. Post-case wrap-up and a bit of hurt/comfort. Written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Prompt: Wish.

Sally heard voices just as she approached the door to Lestrade’s hospital room. Voices, plural, which mean the DI was not alone. She paused, not wanting to disturb him if he was being checked on by a doctor or helped by a nurse.

“Come in, Sergeant,” an unmistakable voice spoke up, loudly enough to come clearly to her ears. “John and I were just about to leave.”

There was no bite in his tone or his words, and when Sally entered the room, he acknowledged her presence with a slight nod of his head and an even more fleeting smile, almost sensed more than seen in the quirk of those thin lips and the glint in those odd eyes. She nodded in return, a little uneasy at a Sherlock Holmes who wasn’t actively antagonistic towards her, or vice versa for that matter.

It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. They were too fundamentally different. He might not be as cold or as uncaring as she’d always thought, but he was still a rude, insufferable, self-centered bastard who was prone to cruel, cutting words, and more inclined to see and care about his little puzzles than the people hurt by them. She wasn’t going to stop calling him on his shite whenever he dished it out, particularly whenever it made her job more difficult. Still, they’d managed to work together on this case, and she had to admit he’d had her back even when she hadn’t really expected it.

She was starting to understand, at least a little, why Lestrade put up with him, even trusted him. Maybe she could learn to do the same.

To a point.

“Sally!” Lestrade’s enthusiastic welcome jolted her from her thoughts. “Come to help spring me from this place?”

“More likely to help hold you down until the doctors give you the okay, sir.” Sally kept her rejoinder mild, a little shocked at how poorly Lestrade still looked. Nobody looked good in hospital gowns, tucked into hospital beds, but she hadn’t expected anything quite this bad. There were two different IVs plugged into Lestrade’s arm, and all sorts of wires and leads going to various monitors. His colour was awful, all grey-faced and pale-lipped. Only his eyes looked anything close to usual, and even they had a hectic shine.

“Which they won’t do for at least another forty-eight hours, so don’t go getting any ideas.” John sat on one edge of Lestrade’s bed, and Sally was glad to see that he, at least, was looking much more the thing. He was wearing proper clothes, too, which suggested he might have been released from hospital altogether. “You’re barely back to where you were before you decided to yank out all your feeds and try to make a break for it.”

“Hey! There was the minor matter of a bomb, you know.”

“I remember.” Deserts weren’t as dry as John’s tone. “I remember how you almost clocked me with a bedpan, too.”

“You ducked.”

“Benton didn’t.” John grinned at the memory. “And what did you hit Yates with? I didn’t see it.”

“I don’t remember,” Lestrade confessed. “It’s all a bit of a blur.”

“Understandable.” Sally got the impression John said so more to put Lestrade at ease than for any medical reason. Her suspicion doubled when John focused on her. “And speaking of hits, Sherlock told us you laid out Collison out cold when you caught him at the RHC office but didn’t mention many other details. Tell us about it?”

Sherlock remained quiet as she related her walk to the office and what happened inside. She almost forgot he was there, not least because Lestrade and John were such a good audience; appreciative, asking questions in the right places, and expressive, particularly when she described how she’d taken Collison down. John sucked in his cheeks, while Lestrade beamed. “That’s the same head-butt move you used against Griffith last year, yeah?”

“Similar, yes.”

Lestrade nodded. “You had half the squad flirting with concussions after that arrest, trying to learn how you’d done it, and as far as I know no one’s picked up the trick. It’s a thing of beauty.”

John smiled, curiosity and appreciation mixed together in his warm grin. “Wish I’d seen it. I’d have liked the chance to pay him back for shooting me with whatever the hell it was, but it sounds like you did that for the both of us and all the other people he’d hurt.” He glanced at Sherlock, still standing quietly near the door. Something unspoken passed between the two men, and Sherlock stood up a little straighter.

“It was very satisfying to witness,” he said primly. “John, I believe Mrs Hudson is expecting us at Baker Street. She mentioned something about a welcome-home tea.”

John stood up carefully. Seeing him move, Sally wasn’t entirely convinced he should be out of hospital yet, but John’s smile didn’t falter. “Wouldn’t want to miss that. Greg, we’ll have a celebratory pint once you’re released, yeah?”

“Count on it. Now get out of here, you lucky bastard.”

“Mind your doctors, and you won’t be long after me.” John turned and nodded to Sally. “Good to see you. And thanks.”

He didn’t say what for, but he didn’t have to. “Just doing my job, John.”

“Not just doing it, but doing a damn fine job,” Lestrade insisted as John and Sherlock exited the room. “Dimmock’s a bit sour at not being in on the arrest, but from what I’ve heard he’s said nothing but good things about your work, and I know you’ve not had the easiest time working with him in the past. And you worked with Sherlock, too; in fact Dimmock said you insisted on it.” He studied her, his eyes sharp despite still being well under the weather. “You’ve gone above and beyond on this one, Sally, and if the higher-ups haven’t yet figured that out, I’ll make sure they do once I’m out of here. You deserve major credit for bringing Collison in, and you’ll get it.” His gaze softened, and he gave her the warm smile she’d learned to treasure in the years they’d worked together. “Well done, Sergeant. And thank you.”

Sally felt her cheeks heat, and was glad that it wouldn’t show. “I appreciate that. I had a lot of help – and motivation.”

Lestrade raised a knowing eyebrow, and Sally nodded. _Let’s just hope I don’t have anything like that motivation again anytime soon,_ she thought. She could hope working with Sherlock would be a little easier in the future, and that Dimmock wouldn’t be as biased, but hopefully it wouldn’t take people dying and Lestrade winding up in hospital to get there.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted December 30, 2019.


End file.
